2010-01-23 - Harlem Heroes Month Continues
The corner of 143rd and Lenox, and the soothing sounds of a mellow sax. This is A Touch of Dee, Harlem's local flavor in a low-rent pub. Homey, relaxed, and one of the borough's best-kept secrets. Tonight? Junior Night, where the club locks up it's liquor in favor of smoothies and soda. Waiting for the doors to open is one Virgil Hawkins, youngest child of the local Community Center's director, shooting the breeze with a few of the other local teens 'in the know'. Until he spots Ororo. Jaw dropping and eyes widening, his conversation's forgotten as he mentally shifts from disbelief to confusion to amazement as he works out reality. "...no way..." Ororo Monroe is coming out of one of the coffee shops, moving towards a nearby jazz club. From her dress, she plans an evening out, although the white hair is quite distinctive. Perhaps not to everyone, for Storm keeps a low profile, but to one who extensively studies supers...either a frightening figure, an intriguing one, or...well. There are many ways one can react to a mutant of this power. Hopefully he won't blow her cover...for she is an X-Man, after all, not...say...a member of the Justice League. But it is indeed that pub she is heading for...who needs alcohol when one has jazz? Her form might well be intimidating even to those who do not recognize her...not *that* many women are quite that *tall*. Well, even if Virgil -does- know Storm's, erm, 'measurements', he's obviously not quite prepared for the reality of them. As for blowing cover? Not likely, though his shock-induced (no pun intended) gawk of amazement could easily be taken as just hormone-induced leering, unless someone knows better. Somehow, someway, he manages speech, even if it's a stupid attempt at it. "...whoa. Who does your hair?" Ororo Monroe generally gets asked that question by girls, not boys. "Actually, it is natural." It's technically NOT an X-factor side effect, so she can talk about it. Most think it is premature greying. Virgil decided the hair was the best feature to comment on, at least, if he didn't want smacked. After a moment's silence, he decides he might have a way to let Storm know he knows, without flat-out saying it. "I, uh, didn't know ya dug jazz." His tone is one of familiarity despite the nervous wavering. "Let alone the Harlem hotspots." Ororo Monroe arches a pristine eyebrow. "I find jazz relaxing." So, who is this young man who knows who she is? Obviously either...very smart, or a total super junkie. Or, of course, both. Well, Virgil's been accused of both, and neither in varying degrees. Finally managing to find some level of normalcy amongst the internal squeeing fanboy, he offers a shaky (and slightly clammy) hand. "I'm, uh, Hirgil Vawkins- I mean, Virgil." Ororo Monroe reaches to shake hands, keeping absolute calm and poise. "Ororo." She notices how he stumbles...which could, of course, also be put down to how some men react around attractive women. Quickly wiping his hand on his jacket before the shake, it seems Virgil's not entirely consumed by his geeking out. "It's, uh, S'cool to meet ya, Ororo." Stuffing his hands back in his pockets, his gaze drops to the ground, almost as if avoiding looking at Storm (specifically, the wrong parts of her). "How'd ya hear about Dee?" Guys look at breasts. So do some women. "Internet," she says, after a moment. Of course, that does seem to be how most people...even people like her...find out what they need to find out, these days. Managing a genuine (and surprisingly relaxed) chuckle, Virgil shrugs with a mock-sigh. "Man, can't keep a good secret anywhere anymore, can ya." Checking his watch, the dredlocked teen smirks. "Ten minutes. Fun." Ororo Monroe smiles. "But music is not meant to be kept as a secret. Good music is supposed to be shared." She does not glance at her own watch, but rather towards the club. Virgil nods. "Aight, I can see that." Despite trying to 'be cool', Virgil's getting nervous, wondering if she can -sense- electrical energies, or just control it. "I think it's Sweeper an' Tucker tonight. They're some of the better singers, but - Any reason your here on 'kiddie night', or just happened in?" Ororo Monroe can't. Not when they're contained within a person. Virgil's abilities might be the same substance as the weather, but they are not connected to the greater whole. "Actually, I was checking it out for some students of mine." The admission just makes Virgil blink briefly. "Students?" That was the last thing he expected. What is this? Heroes in Harlem week? Green Arrow, Batman, Daredevil, Wonder Woman, Troia, now Storm? "I, uh, I dunno. What do they look like? I mighta seen 'em around." Ororo Monroe shakes her head. "No. They are a little younger and I wanted to make sure it was safe, and that they were not sneaking alcohol to the kids." Virgil can't help but grin at that bit. "Nah, they're pretty hardcore about the underage thing. Dude called F-Stop tried pullin' a fast one, ended up in the back of a squad car. Wasn't his first time, pro'ly wasn't his last, either. ...that was before the Big Bang, though. Now he hucks fire. Calls himself Hothead, or Bluestreak or somethin'. -Total- Sociopath." Ororo Monroe nods. "Good. But I still plan on seeing for myself. You are out for the music, or..." Maybe he's hoping for a girlfriend. Virgil seems to be more and more relaxed as the discussion carries on. "Oh, yeah. I'm one-a those people that likes ta keep an ear out." He leaves off what he's listening for, at least. That's when the doors to the pub open up, and they start letting the small line filter in. "Aight! ...thought I was gonna freeze my dreds off." Ororo Monroe does not say anything about the temperature as she slips into the pub. She's not the only adult there tonight, mind. Not many...most prefer there to be beer available. But she's not alone. Knowing what would happen if he -followed- Ororo in, Virgil slips ahead of her if only to avoid any potentially uncomfortable explainations. "They still serve, like, beer and wine coolers, but ya gotta have an ID and a tag to even get near them." he explains, gesturing towards the big guy at the open end of the bar. "I, uh-" He trails off, deciding to just slip into one of the seats instead of finishing the thought. "I have no need for alcohol to relax," Storm says, simply, although she does detach herself to move to the bar. She might not need alcohol, but it's warm in here. Despite his best efforts -not- to keep his eyes on Storm, Virgil catches himself looking her way several times as other teens make their way to booths and tables. It's almost as if he fully expects her to vanish at any moment, like some sort of daydream. Still, he finds himself wondering what she meant by students. Ororo, for now, ignores the various looks...some faintly lustful, others covetous...that she is getting from the teenagers. She seems to have, in the end, settled for some kind of cooler. It's red, anyway. Apparently deciding for himself that it's a little toasty, Virgil heads to the bar himself, conveniently not far from Ororo. "Hey, man. Lemon Ice. One of the big ones." Again, the geeky teen offers Storm a shy, heavily embarassed smile, but again fails to say anything more. "I do not bite," the elegant woman notes, taking a sip from her drink, but regarding him with a somewhat sympathetic look. Virgil manages a slight smile as he clears his throat. "It's, uh, not a bite I'm worried about. I mean, you're-" Pausing, the teen stumbles as he tries to let Ororo know he knows without blabbing it out. "-y'know. -You-." Ororo Monroe shakes her head. "Who else would I be?" Her voice is kept quiet, although not as quiet as it might be were they talking somewhere with less ambient noise. A slight sigh slips from Virgil as he pays for the Italian Ice. "I dunno. You're not Green Lantern, I can tell ya -that- much." Yeah, -real- smooth, Virg. "I mean-" Another heavy sigh. "...I dunno where I was goin' with that." Ororo Monroe cannot help but laugh a little. "No, I think I am a long way from Green Lantern." Not that she has met the man...but, well. Gender, ethnicity... Running a hand over his face, Virgil looks every bit like a teen caught between testosterone and embarassment. Never a fun spot. Well, onsidering what he knows, and who it is, Virgil sees an opportunity as the first performer steps onto the stage, drawing most of the pub's attention. Chocolate-brown eyes fix on Ororo, and he does his best to conceal his hand from anyone but her, a very faint tracer of electricity leaping from his thumb to his forefinger before disappearing. Then he gives Storm the 'get-it-now' expression before glancing around to make sure noone spotted the little display. Ororo Monroe merely nods. She gets it...although, of course, the young man's power is quite, quite different from her own. Except where it overlaps, but even then. Her eyes flick to the performer, but only briefly, before focusing back on Virgil. Virgil just clears his throat, and takes a big spoon out of the Ice, trying (and failing) to pretend that everything's juuuust fine. "You should try this stuff. Really takes the edge off the heat. I think they plan it like this, though." Ororo Monroe nods. "They probably do...which is unfortunate. People do need to stay hydrated." Virgil rolls his eyes slightly. "-So- not fair." Regardless, he stuffs another spoonful in. "So... ...I'm right. ...right?" Ororo Monroe nods. "I believe you are." Without voicing anything. She glances at the lemon ice. Perhaps she will have to try some...later. Internally berating himself for giving away his biggest secret, Virgil silently hopes Ororo doesn't do the math, and the anxiety's showing. "I have-- Uh, nevermind. It's kinda geeky and stupid anyway. Story of my life." Ororo Monroe shakes her head a little. "If it is important to you, it is not stupid." Yeah, she's a teacher alright. A moment's thought, and Virgil finally lets loose with a sigh of resignation as he digs through his pack (carting blue and black cloth, if it's looked into hard enough) to pull out a 3x5 notecard and a sharpie. Holding it covertly, the teen smiles apologetically, hoping he doesn't have to outright ask in a semi-crowded club. "I, uh, sorta have a poster. -of, well, you. ...would you mind..?" THERE'S the pure geek coming through! Ororo Monroe does a quick glance around, to make sure nobody can see her. After all, she doesn't want to get mobbed...or something. Luckily, Virgil's fanboy moment came during the beginning of a variance on an Ella Fitzgerald bridge, and it seems people are pretty into it, with the exception of one or two near-salivating guys at a table some distance away. As slickly as he can (which actually seems pretty damned slick), he slides the pen and paper over before taking another spoonful of Lemon-flavored ice. Maybe there's hope for the kid yet. Ororo Monroe will, thus, give her autograph. Under her other name, of course. She hasn't given her last name at all...and she hopes Virgil won't hold that against her. While there's a -lot- of things a young man like Virgil would hold against Ororo, keeping her last name to herself isn't one of them. After all, he's got his own secrets to keep, however poorly he's doing so. The leering boys in the corner? Well, they noticed, to be sure, though their perception of what just happened is an -entirely- different story. "Um, thanks, Ororo. This is goin', well, y'know." Now, Virgil's catching the downside of playing the Hero game himself. Static can';t exactly ask for autographs. He can't? There's no rule against it. Of course, if Ororo were to guess that this young man is Static, then she would tell no one. She can keep secrets very close to herself. Considering events, it seems the jazz has taken a backseat for the moment. "I'm gonna jet. You, uh, you enjoy the music a little for me?" he asks with a joking tone as he seals his pack up. "Oh, here." he adds, sliding the rest of his Lemon Ice over to Ororo before starting for the door. Yeah, he wants to get that card home ASAP. It'll look great next to the poster of her on his - wall. Yeah, his wall. Category:Logs